


Ten One Things (Just Lay in the Atmosphere)

by herprettysleeper



Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Angst, F/M, Flings, I wrote it in second person, No Strings Attached, Sadness, i love sarah, i ship ryden too (it's my otp) but don't be hatin', she does not deserve this hate, stop hatin' on her, you are sarah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-16
Updated: 2016-09-16
Packaged: 2018-08-15 07:35:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8047915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herprettysleeper/pseuds/herprettysleeper
Summary: In which you (Sarah) break two hearts, one of which is your own.





	Ten One Things (Just Lay in the Atmosphere)

**Author's Note:**

> Written because I love Sarah Urie and Brendon Urie, I missed one-shots, and I am a horrible person.  
> Yes, I shoved a Hamilton (Ten Things One Thing from Off-Broadway) and a P!atd reference (Casual affair) into one title.  
> Not sorry.

**One: The way it began.**

At first it had been awkward, conversation started and dragged, wine and silence, tumbling into eventual “Can I kiss you?”s.

Now, it was three texts. Just three.

You’d look down at your phone, and text _Him._ That’s what he was listed as in your contacts.

_You: Tonight. Nine._

_Him: Alright._

_You: See you._

You knocked. The door opened.

And it always started with a kiss.

**Two: The way he felt.**

His skin was soft, smooth. Every part of him except his fingers. They were rough from guitar strings and overtime on piano keys. But they never hurt you.

He wouldn’t let them.

**Three: The way he touched you.**

He was careful—at first you’d done it rough and fast, but once you’d grown comfortable enough with each other it’d slowed down. Kisses against your neck. Murmurs against your skin.

Caramel. Sweet, slow.

Not love—sugar.

**Four: The way he lied.**

You woke up the next morning, pulled on your clothes.

“Do you want to stay for breakfast?”

You stopped moving. “I have to go to work.”

“It’s only seven. You haven’t eaten. I’ll make you pancakes.”

You hesitated, so Brendon lied for the first time.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” he said, his voice quiet.

You stayed.

**Five: The way he made you fall.**

Pancakes went to hanging out. Inside jokes. Falling asleep watching Netflix on the couch. Shared looks.

You were entangled in him.

It was the middle of the night, and you were thirsty. You smiled at his snoring, reached to turn on the lights so you could see. You started to walk out when something caught your eye.

Scribbled handwriting on sheets in the wastebasket.

You were curious.

_Dear Sarah,_

_~~Hi. I really don’t know how to say this~~ _

_~~I’m not sure I can do this anymore~~ _

_~~I’m in love with you~~ _

_~~It’s complicated~~ _

The writing went on for a few pages.

Pages.

You knew five things.

One) Brendon was in love with you.

Two) Brendon wanted to be with you.

Three) Brendon didn’t want this anymore.

Four) Brendon was on the bed behind you.

Five) You couldn’t be here when he woke up.

Five things. Twenty things. Ten things. One thing.

It didn’t matter.

~*~

The bed was cold when Brendon woke up.

He turned to his side. Sarah wasn’t there.

He sat up, ran his hands through his hair, went to freshen up.

He walked out of the bathroom, hair wet, toothbrush in his mouth. And he saw the sticky note on his desk.

_Dear Brendon,_

_I’m sorry._

_~Sarah_

His letters were next to the note.

_Shit._

~*~

“Please, I need to see Sarah.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

The man blocking Brendon—Zack—looked behind his shoulder at you. Brendon tried to catch your gaze, but you wouldn’t look him in the eye.

He was in a grey suit, his hair messy. You wanted to talk to him, but you knew what would happen. He would start with apologies. You would kiss him and you would both fall for each other all over again, but it would be worse this time. And you would break him.

You broke everything.

You shook your head, the gesture minuscule. You heard a snapping sound in the back of your mind. It happened again.

It was two hearts. One your own. The other from a boy with messy dark hair.

He left. He almost looked back.

You went back to your cubicle, typing code to run a program for a company you hated.

~*~

Brendon walked home.

He opened the door to his apartment calmly, stuffed the letter into the garbage disposal, not caring if it got clogged, then sat on his bed, buried his head in his hands, tried not to cry and failed.

 


End file.
